The people who commented 'it's not fair that even when the target is completed, author didn't update' —wasn't it unfair when I used to update even when the target wasn't completed? I didn't see you commenting "it's unfair" during that time.
And for those who were rudely ordering me to update, let me make one thing very clear : I don't owe you anything, so just sit the fuck down. You can ask for updates nicely as well. I have a life, I'm a human being, not a computer. I was going through dental problems, and I'm not a superhuman who can write even with a toothache. Anyway, it's useless because some people just don't get it no matter what author says.
To my genuine, lovely and respectful readers who actually interact by voting and comment beautiful things, I love you all to death.
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— 𖤐 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐑𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕 :
I left my beautiful wife at home only to deal with this fucking shit.
The early morning light filtered through the blinds of my office, casting long shadows across the room.
I'm watching the CCTV footage from yesterday's event. I needed to confirm that what I had witnessed was not merely a figment of my imagination but a stark reality that I couldn't ignore.
I scrutinized the footage and indeed he was there.
He's real. He was really there. Standing in front of me in the footage.
I could almost feel his breath, the sick antiseptic smell fills my nose, and his voice echoing in the room.
A wave of nausea churned in my stomach as I beheld him standing before me on the screen, a living, breathing reminder of a past I had tried to bury and fucking forget.
With each passing moment of the footage, the knot in my gut tightened, twisting with a sickening intensity.
The weight of his existence bore down on me, suffocating any rational thought that dared to surface.
Why is he still fucking breathing? Why isn't he six feet under yet? He isn't worth living. He fucking isn't.
He was right in front of me yesterday, yet I couldn't do anything. I froze like a fucking idiot.
The helplessness I felt back then hits me in the face. Hard.
But now, I'm not helpless, I'm not a fucking kid anymore.
Yet, when he was right there in front of me yesterday, I still couldn't do a darn thing.
What a loser.
My head throbs and all those loud noises rushes back replaying it even louder with that instant beeping of machines. I clutch my head with both of my hands.
I can suddenly feel everything so vividly. The heat and stickiness, that filthy sensation, everything comes rushing back.
I feel as if hot oil is being poured directly onto my skin, causing it to sizzle and hiss.
